I begin my Wednesday mornings throughout the summer by presenting a program for the Nature Center of Cape May, one that often causes me to say to myself, “I actually get paid for this?” During the weekly “Beachcombing at the Cove,” I lead folks on a leisurely beach walk along the westernmost beach section known as “The Cove” in the City of Cape May.
Typically, I commence the program by asking participants, “What exactly does beachcombing mean?” I point out that the Oxford Dictionary defines beachcombing as “the activity of walking along beaches looking for objects of value or interest.” We search the sand and the water’s edge for treasures, should they be seashells, tumbled quartz pebbles known as Cape May Diamonds, sea glass, driftwood or even arrowheads, shark teeth, and occasionally artifacts like a fuse cap from a WWII munition, which was recently discovered by one of my friends. Beachcombing is simply hunting for what you define as a treasure.
Next, I ask the program participants where they hail from. Usually, the majority are visiting from inland locations, Pennsylvania, North Jersey, New York, Maryland and more mountainous states. I thank them for sharing their more elevated terrain with us lowlanders, because, in fact, our beaches started out in these upland areas and mountain ranges. I explain that glacier action wore away the eastern US mountains and deposited the quartz sands along our coastline. The larger pebbles we find along the beaches, especially along the Delaware Bay Beaches, are nicknamed Cape May Diamonds because when these crystal-clear pebbles are polished, they take on a glass-like shine. Interestingly, our quartz pebbles come in a variety of colors; tan, white, gray, yellow and even a rose-pink.
Beyond the sand grains and quartz pebbles is the “wrack line,” which is the high tide line that is littered with assorted debris, both natural and man-made and a great place to begin their individual treasure hunts. I warn them that a walk along our beaches in the summertime can often be a disappointment for the serious shell collector. Why, you ask? This is my chance to digress and share a public service announcement. The number-one reason our summer beaches can often be devoid of larger size shells is because many beach-goers litter, so each night a monstrous beach cleaning machine sweeps the beaches to collect the trash. However, as it sweeps up trash, it also takes away big shells that the waves deposit.
The truth is the best shell hunting happens in the winter after an offshore storm churns up the waters and deposits our shellfish friends to dry ground. In our local waters, what are most prized and common are large “whelks.” Often misidentified as conch, these are channel and knobbed whelks. Many locals collect them and use them to line their gardens and driveways. This is an acceptable practice only as long as the shell is empty. If the shell is still inhabited, please give it a chance to live and leave the shell be so the tide can return it to its rightful place.
Summertime beachcombing is more like a CSI investigation. Often, we find the fragmented body parts of our mollusk and crustacean neighbors, so we delight when we find a whole specimen. Laminated, waterproof shell identification guides, perfect for keeping in your beach bag, are the key to figuring out what catches our eye.
Everyone seems to find a favorite. Is it the purple edged quahog clam or a shiny jingle shell? The oysters, blue mussels, bay scallops or moon snails? And just what are those squiggly spirals (whelk egg cases) or black puffy pouches (skate egg sacks)? Maybe we stumble upon a lion’s mane jellyfish or a wayward horseshoe crab.
For more exploring, we venture to higher ground near the dunes. Ghost crab holes dot the way and are identified by the scratch marked footprints these hiding nocturnal critters left the night before.
My beachcombers marvel that what appears to be a desolate sandy expanse is actually a thriving habitat for hundreds of native beach dwellers who are hiding from our presence. We look into the roped-off preserved area often inhabited by endangered and threatened beach nesting birds such as Piping Plovers, Least Terns and Black Skimmers. Next, we journey into the dunes along a walkway that transects this special habitat with its varying vegetation as I share the importance of these ecosystems, not only for the creatures that call them home, but as our own primary line of defense against sea level rise and protection from storm surge during hurricanes.
Beyond the dunes lies another world, the freshwater ponds and critical wildlife habitat for thousands of migratory birds, dragonflies and butterflies. Our beachcombing adventure would not complete if I did not share two personal stories of this special location. The first story relates my own wedding on a September evening in 2016, when the full moon rose in the east just as the sun was setting in the west. The second story is of another wedding, that of two of my former staff members, Sam and Margeaux in 2020. I often reflect how appropriate it was for this couple, who are both world traveling nature guides, to have a fox follow them as they walked through the dunes and onto the beach!
I wrap up our beachcombing by reminding my group of what Forrest Gump tells us about life, that “it is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” Maybe that’s why a “chocoholic” like me likes beachcombing so much. Interested? Curious? Join me as I lead a beachcombing adventure every Wednesday beginning at 8:30 a.m., until the end of August. We meet at the flagpole at the end of the Cape May Promenade. The cost is $12 for adults and $6 for children. Register through “Eventbrite” by searching “New Jersey Audubon-Nature Center of Cape May.”
